


Floor One

by Finished_With_The_Show



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Football, Fluff, Human AU, Humor, M/M, Parking lots, a fustrated england, america really likes brady, slight usuk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finished_With_The_Show/pseuds/Finished_With_The_Show
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur has two problems, one of which is Alfred, and the other is that parking lots hate him. But seriously, where the hell did he park that bloody car?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floor One

**Author's Note:**

> I tried.   
> This is clearly based off of me getting stuck in a parking lot. (The car was on Floor One, dammit!)  
> Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, there would be so many references to other Fandoms that it’d be insane. I haven’t seen a single metal-armed shorty in Hetalia yet though, so…

When a parking lot says Floor One, does it mean that the lot is one story below ground level, at ground level, or one story below ground level?

“Alfred!”, he growled, for what seemed like the third time in a minute. “Where is Floor One?”

“Floor One. I think we parked there, yeah, yeah, I know, yeah.” Alfred mumbled incoherently, nearly bumping into a pole. “Floor One is right, yea- YESSSSS! YOU GO, BRADY! OOOOOO, YOU JUST GOT BUSTED!” Cheering and whooping for his favorite player who was currently running around on the screen of his phone, this time Alfred actually did walk into the pole.

Groaning, Arthur turned his attention back to the quite full parking lot, which stretched further than he could see. _Americans,_ he thought. _Of course they’ve managed to make a parking lot confusing._

Unfortunately for him, the only American he had with him was way too engrossed in a football game to even hear him. Alfred was probably unhelpful in this situation though, so it didn't matter too much.

What **did** matter though, was that he was lost in a huge, full, parking lot, with an Alfred who kept bumping into things, and absolutely no idea where his car was. Did he even remember the color of the car? No, but at least he knew it was either white or black. Did he even remember the brand of the car? No, but it was an animal logo, that much could be helpful. Which was more than he could say for Alfred, to be honest.

Clicking the unlock button on his car keys, Arthur looked around for any flash of car lights, or the distinct sound of his car being unlocked. Nothing made a sound, save the squealing of tires and the angry honking of impatient New Yorkers outside. There was no flash of lights to be seen either, which meant his car was not in the area. Just like the previous five areas. 

Cursing his choice to take one of the cars he never used, Arthur walked forwards again, towards Area 7.

_Wham!_ Oh dear. That had been the third wall Alfred had walked into, not to mention the previous five cars, three people, two doors, and a pole. _That boy really needs a protective field,_ Arthur thought, chuckling to himself. _God knows what he’d do when drunk._

Mentally berating himself for getting off topic, Arthur spotted an old man inspecting a car nearby. Wearing a neon yellow rain hat in the hot summer day, the man stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the nuetral shine of the cars all around. His inward France grimaced at the old man’s ugly fashion, but he had to be sensible. (And not like the Frog!) Running towards him, Arthur left Alfred behind to ask the old man for help.

“Excuse me, sir-”, Arthur began, but was cut off by the old man.

“Well, what do ‘e have here? A young’in, aren’t you?”, the old man laughed, pulling at his knee high socks.

He was twenty-five already, old enough to do most things, and by all means an adult, but Arthur decided to keep that to himself. Nodding, he asked: “Do you know which floor is Floor One?” 

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

Oh. Oh, no. No, out of everything the old man could’ve said, out of all the variations of one phrase, the old man had to have said that?

“Oohhh, who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SpongeBob SquarePants! Absorbent and yellow and porous is he! SpongeBob SquarePants! If nautical nonsense be something you wish, SpongeBob SquarePants! Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish! SpongeBob SquarePants! SpongeBob Squarepants! SpongeBob SquarePants! SpongeBobbbbb… SquarePants! Yay!”, sung Alfred, from where he still was, finally glancing up from his phone. But then he put his head back down, continuing to watch the football game, leaving the parking lot still again. 

“Oh, I'm awfully sorry about that.”; Arthur awkwardly said, trying to continue the conversation he was having earlier, if it could be called one. 

“I CAN’T H-”

“Ahahaha, no thanks, sir, it’s alright, I will just take my leave now, have a good day, goodbye.” Arthur interrupted the old man, keeping him from finishing the rest of his sentence. “Alfred, move it, you git!”, called, dragging the American away. “We need to figure out how to get out of this bloody parking lot!”

“Mhm… “ Alfred mumbled, still intent on the match on his screen. Which really sucked for him, because the wifi decided to cut off right then, just as the last half-minute of the game approached. 

“AARRRGGHHHHHH!!!!!!”, screamed Alfred, scaring the life out of Arthur. (And probably the old guy too, but he was an American, so who knows? He's probably gotten used to it now, being an American himself.) “WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, PHONE!!! SHOW ME WHO WON!!!”

Arthur sighed. It seemed as if he was stuck playing damage control again, just _great_.

“Alfred, you can catch up on your game later, but first we need to get to the car, okay?”, he reasoned to the other man. 

“Wait…” Alfred said, thinking for a moment. “Our car has wifi in it, right?”

A confused nod from Arthur followed.

“Hell yeah!”, whooped Alfred, and dashed off.

Arthur took two second to process this, then: “YOU GIT!! Where are you going? How are you going to find the car- WAIT UP FOR ME!!” 

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Arthur looked for Alfred, only to find him standing in front of a white Ferrari, with a sticker of the American flag stuck haphazardly across the bumper.

“Open the car, open the car, Arthur! Hurry up and open the car!”, urged Alfred, who hadn't even broken a sweat in his hurry to get to the car.

“Are you sure that's our car, Alfred? I wouldn't ever put an American flag on in my car… “ Arthur cautiously asked.

“I’m sure of it!” Alfred argued. “I stuck that there last night when Mattie- that bastard- stuck a Canadian maple leaf on my car! So hurry up and open the car!”

Arthur doubtfully clicked the car key. 

It worked? The car’s lights flashed, and the doors clicked… but Arthur didn't ever remember having the car spew out confetti… 

“Whatever,” muttered Arthur, too used to Alfred to be fazed over the new development in his car. 

Getting in the car, Arthur strapped on his seatbelt, all too aware of the fact that the American sticker and confetti, combined with the loud screaming of a football fan, made him seem like an American. (And not the good kind.)

_Well,_ Arthur thought, starting the car, _at least I don't have deal with this stupid parking lot anymore_.

“Where’s the damn exit?!?”

_Stupid parking lot._

**Author's Note:**

> Moral of the story: Never underestimate a parking lot!   
> The characters might be slightly off, oops.  
> Sorry for slight America-bashing. (But American parking lots are really confusing. )  
> Please tell me if I have any mistakes, and thanks for reading!  
> ^_^ (・ω・)ノ


End file.
